


Work In Progress

by orphan_account



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Post s2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That night... It wasn't drugs. It was never drugs. Something else happened that night, that I was part of. That's what I've been hiding, ever since that night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work In Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after what this fic was for way too long :)
> 
> I got prompted on tumblr to do some angst w a happy ending, so I came up with a very rushed version of events in which both find out each others secret and they fight and yeah, hope you enjoy!

**_four weeks before_ **

"Didn't we agree that I'm doing dinner tonight? I'm sure we agreed that at some point. You deserve a break, Ollie." 

Oliver smiled to himself, hoping none of his coworkers would notice. Despite it being late, almost everyone was still present at the office, courtesy of their boss. Oliver spoke back into the phone quietly. 

"That's sweet Con, but I really don't mind. Plus, your dinners are always... well we usually end up getting take out." 

He could practically hear that signature Connor Walsh eye-roll-and-smirk combo over the line. "My dinners are just too advanced for the average human's taste. I don't see any issue with that. _Plus_ , thanks to your inconsiderate boss, you don't really have any choice other than to let me make dinner." Connor's voice softened. "I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I let you come home after working so late only to sort out a meal." 

Shaking his head, Oliver succumbed. "Fine. But only because I can barely keep my eyes open right now." _And because you always make up for your failed dinners with amazing sex_ , Oliver added silently. 

"Great! I'll, um, I'll..." Connor's voice trailed off to nothing as other voices joined his. Somebody must've entered the room. Connor continued in a whisper, "Sorry, Asher and Frank just came in, and I'm supposed to be working." 

Oliver heard a voice - Asher's, probably - getting louder and louder. The words weren't distinct over the phone, but Oliver could hear Frank trying to quiet him in a harsh tone. 

Then Asher yelled something about - ham? No, Sam. Something about Sam and how he's not the one who's responsible for that mess... then Connor was shushing them very loudly in what he probably hoped was a hushed tone. 

"Listen, Ollie, I have to go. They, um, Annalise needs me to get back to work. Big case and all that. I'll talk to you later, okay?" 

Smile rapidly dissipating, Oliver replied simply, "Okay." He went to hang up but Connor's voice quickly cut in, 

"Hey, I love you." 

Oliver sighed. While it was always clear that Connor cared for him, apparently he didn't care enough to not hide things from Oliver. 

It was as if his boyfriend tried to display just how weak he thought Oliver was - considering this wasn't the first time Connor had blatantly lied to Oliver over what appeared to be nothing. Oliver couldn't pin down what the reason must be; did Connor think Oliver was unable of handling anything? Did he not care enough to let Oliver in on his life? Was he bored of Oliver and just seeking out something else to return the thrill to his life? 

The thinly-veiled dishonesty had been building for weeks, and it had almost become an exhausting normality for Oliver at this point. 

"I love you too." 

******_two weeks before_ ** ** **

The rain was just starting to ease up when Connor and Oliver reached their apartment building. As they climbed the stairs, Oliver peeled off his jacket, which was dripping wet. He'd forgotten to bring an umbrella when he met Connor at the clinic to pick up their respective meds, so both men were drenched. Not that Connor seemed to mind, though. 

"I've been thinking, right," Connor said as he unlocked their apartment door with frozen fingers, "when we move to Cali, we're gonna have to switch clinics, and find a new doctor, and sort out all that shit." 

Oliver couldn't help it - he faltered. He really needed to work on acting natural every time California was brought up. "Uh.. you don't seem very upset about that." 

He was referring to the strangely satisfied smile Connor was wearing. The lock finally clicked, and Oliver passed through the doorway and went straight to put the kettle on. 

Connor's smile only grew as he stripped off his jacket and jumper. "I just keep thinking about how great it's gonna be to get out of this town, you know?" he called out as he disappeared into their bedroom to change. 

Oliver didn't reply. He just readied two mugs. 

"I know it's all gonna be a massive hassle and all, but I just can't wait to finally get us away from all the stress," Connor continued as he walked back into sight, looking snug in tracksuit bottoms and Oliver's hoodie. 

He walked up to stand right behind Oliver, and rubbed his now warm hands on Oliver's ice-cold arms. "I'd rather be stressed about finding a new doctor than.. everything I have to deal with here. You're freezing, Ollie, you need to change quick." Oliver turned and passed a steaming mug of hot chocolate to Connor before humming in agreement. 

Even as Oliver went off to get out of his dripping clothes, he heard Connor continuing his little rant. "Oh my god, I should research doctors in Cali. I'm only letting the best doctors near you. I mean, we don't actually know where we're gonna live yet, but research doesn't hurt anyway..." 

Oliver joined him on the couch with his own hot chocolate, curling up under the blanket with Connor, who was starting up his laptop. 

The rain outside pattered against the window in a gentle rhythm. The pale grey weather reflected into the apartment, giving everything a soft look. Even Connor, with his tousled hair, and his damp and glistening skin, even he looked softer. 

Oliver loved this. All of it - Philly, the rain, forgetting his umbrella and getting them both soaked, their apartment in this grey haze, Connor in this grey haze. Connor especially. 

He decided he couldn't leave. Not when he had everything here. The Stanford email was already gone, but it was then that Oliver decided there was no going back. He couldn't tell Connor, he couldn't call Stanford back, he couldn't fix this, because it's done. And if Connor never finds out, then he can't be hurt, can he? 

Oliver shuffled closer to him and closed the laptop. "Let's not worry about that just yet." Connor gave him an understanding look, before discarding the laptop and loading up Netflix. They stayed huddled together like that for hours, with Oliver's head resting on Connor's shoulder. The cold wore off soon after, but they stayed close and kept the blanket there - not quite willing to move just yet. 

******_that night_ ** ** **

After just over three weeks of late hours, it'd become normal for Oliver to return home when the sun had already dropped. So that night, really, it shouldn't have been so... _off_. 

When Oliver strolled into the apartment, he'd expected to see Connor perhaps dozing on the couch. Or scrolling through his laptop on their bed. Maybe heating up some food. He certainly hadn't expected to be met with the sight of Connor's laptop left open and strewn on the coffee table and the TV blaring with no audience. 

The sound of Connor's raised voice from the bedroom only made his stomach fall further. Was there someone else here? 

Swiftly discarding his jacket and bag, Oliver went to find his boyfriend. He found Connor in the bedroom, facing away slightly, with his head and arm leant on the wall, his phone held to his ear. The look on his face was tense and full of frustration. He hadn't noticed Oliver enter. 

"Why can't you do that then? Yes! Yes, please just let me talk to Shirley." The name triggered alarms in Oliver's head. "I just want to get this mess sorted out." 

Oliver hesitated. He decided against running and cowering, and pushed himself to approach Connor. He kept his hands held out in front of him. Connor can get panicky when he's in such an angry state as this. "Con? Hey, Con what's the matter?" 

Connor whipped around and the relief on his face was almost tangible. He dropped his phone immediately and smiled - but that only worried Oliver more. It wasn't his usual bright smile - it was dangerously close to the smile Connor had forced on the night he turned up in the midst of a drug-induced breakdown at Oliver's door. 

"Ollie! Thank god. It's insane right, my mum sent me an email with a picture of this picture of us she had framed, because she still doesn't understand texting, and I was talking to her on the phone and I told her I hadn't got it, so she told me to look in my phones cloud backup, it's crazy--" 

Oliver held his arm is a steady grip. "Connor calm down, talk slower." 

"Yeah. Yeah. Ollie, I found an email from Stanford." He breathed, long and deep. "It said that I got accepted." 

Oliver dropped his hand. For a moment he thought Connor might hear - or feel - his heart thudding through his skin. It was irrational, really, to fear something so unlikely when the real danger was stood facing him, about to explode. 

"Connor..." 

"I mean it's a mistake right? Either they didn't mean to send it and, I don't know, they figured out a way to delete it, or I did that myself. Accidentally." 

Connor was pacing now. He'd completely forgotten about the call he was supposed to be taking. There was only one lamp on in the room, and the shifting shadows on his face only made the stark panic clearer. 

"Connor, I --" 

"It mustn't of been meant for me. It makes sense. I'm never, I mean, my ranking is so shit. And you were right, I never study. I barely even get time to focus in class, let alone learn. It makes sense that I didn't get in." 

That's when Oliver felt his thudding heart heart almost stop. He realised - with soul-crushing suddenness - that Connor had already doubted himself possibly more than others doubted him. To find out he couldn't get into school he so desperately wanted to, especially when others said he couldn't? That must be devastating. 

Oliver realised, too, that he'd not only been one of the doubters, but he was also the reason Connor thinks he didn't get in at all. He'd essentially sealed Connor's self-doubt in place permanently, never to be evicted. 

"Connor, listen, I'm sure it wasn't a mistake." Oliver went to say more, but was scared his guilt would bleed into his voice. 

Connor looked at the phone in his hand, and decidedly hung up. Then he left it on the bed and practically dropped into Oliver's arms. 

Oliver jumped a little, surprised, but his arms lifted to wrap around Connor out of habit. Connor buried his nose into Oliver's neck, and Oliver's heart clenched when he felt tears. 

"This is so stupid." Connor's voice was weak. 

"What is?" 

"I don't know, me I guess. I just wanted to save us, get us away, but I don't think I have control over anything." 

"Connor..." 

Connor pulled back to meet Oliver's eyes. He held Oliver's cheeks in his hand, gently. "I'm so sorry. I let you down. I keep fucking everything up." 

"Don't. Don't say that." 

Connor tried to cut in but Oliver's pulse was chaotic, and the remorse was flowing too quickly and he just couldn't bare the hurt on Connor's face, he had to say it, he had to, 

"I did it, Connor, it was me." 

Connor's eyes didn't change. It didn't dawn on him. "What? What was you?" 

Oliver gulped. "I did it. I deleted the email. I...I called Stanford and I pretended to be you and I cancelled it all." 

That was it - it dawned on Connor. He stepped back, hands raised in front of him, almost defensively. 

"Oh my god..." 

"Connor, I am so, so sorry, I swear --" 

"Oh. My god." 

"Connor please understand --" 

"No. No, Oliver. Are you serious? You deleted my email? You, you made me think I didn't get in? You live with me - surely you've noticed how utterly _shit_ I've been feeling because I thought I got denied, I thought I was worth nothing." 

Before he could even recognise it, Oliver's throat was burning and his eyes were welling and the tears were coming. Connor didn't take long to do the same. "Connor, listen, I'm - god I'm _so_ sorry. I never meant to hurt you I swear. I, I didn't think --" 

"I must be able to pull this back. If, if I talk to this Shirley woman now, and explain the whole mess.." Connor started wiping harshly at his eyes and went to grab the phone. 

Oliver almost laughed. He didn't, because his laugh would be shocked and startled and dry and would probably only hurt Connor more. 

"Connor? What... aren't you pissed?" 

Connor strode right past him and into the kitchen. His face was streaked with tears but he didn't seem to care about hiding it. 

"Hi, yes, Shirley? This is Connor Walsh. Yeah, Walsh. No, I'm not crying." His words were broken by sniffs. 

Oliver wanted to yell, he wanted to object, he wanted to shake Connor out of whatever daze had captured him. He ached to wrap his arms around Connor until this entire mess stopped, and left them alone. But he couldn't. Not when Connor was so fragile - he looked ready to snap. 

So instead Oliver stood, tensed, metres away. 

"Yeah, there was a mistake. The person who called before wasn't me - no, no that was, um, that was my friend, playing a prank on me." 

Despite everything, it stung to hear that. _Friend_. It was like Connor had already left him. 

"No, this really is me. Are you kidding? Yes, I'm Connor Walsh. No. Don't - no don't do that, I promise it's me." 

The tension in his voice was evident - the same as it was in his shoulders. Connor had always carried his stress in his shoulders and arms, which Oliver had guessed was the reason he was always clutching pillows when anxious. 

Right now, without a pillow to cling to, Connor had his free hand gripping his other shoulder so tight it looked painful. 

It took all Oliver had to not go over to him. 

"Can I talk to someone else? No, please, just listen to me." 

From the sound of it, Connor was practically arguing with himself. And losing. For the first time since he'd picked up the phone, Connor turned and met Oliver's worried eyes. That was when he came apart - he let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a sigh, and hung up the phone. There was no denying he was a wreck. 

Oliver stayed put, knowing better than to worsen the situation by ignoring it. They had to talk about this - actually talk, not just be angry and then pretend everything's okay. 

"Connor, please calm down. I know you're upset, and trust me, I can't stand this either, but we need to sort this out. We can't avoid it - you can't busy yourself with getting back into Stanford." Oliver tried, desperately, to sound sure, but he was shaking, and it echoed in his voice. 

In the kitchen, it was even darker, so Connor's face was half in shadow. The half that Oliver could see was looking down, and his arms were tightly crossed. When Connor spoke, his voice sounded strained. "Why." 

"What?" 

"Why. Why'd you do it?" 

Oliver's hands gripped the back of his neck, grasping for some security. "I'm.. I'm not entirely sure." Connor spat out a shaky laugh. "I know. That sounds cruel. But, I didn't really think about it. I just wanted, I mean, I really really wanted to not move, that I know." 

Connor didn't say anything. He just kept his head hung low. So Oliver continued. 

"I don't know what it was exactly, but I knew we couldn't move. I think it was because, maybe, I was terrified of leaving everything behind. I mean, our entire lives are here. This, this is where are friends and jobs and everything exists. This is where we met, and fell in love, and moved in together. I'm sorry, but I'm not capable of just... leaving it all behind so easily." 

With his head still low, Connor muttered, "You say that like I was happy to leave it all behind." 

He didn't say any more than that. Oliver's head pounded with the things he wanted to say - to reassure, to calm, to anger, to argue. 

"That's not what I meant. But you asked why I did it, and that's pretty much it. It's petty, I know." 

"Pretty much it? Why else?" 

"If...if I'm being entirely honest, um," Oliver wrung his hands together, working his fingers raw. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to say it, because the thought sounded ridiculous even to himself. "I was worried you were bored of me." 

Now Connor's half-hidden face snapped up. "What?" 

Deep breath. "I was worried that you didn't see anything more here with me." 

Connor only frowned, obviously confused. 

"I thought you didn't want... _me_ anymore. Because let's be honest, the only reason you got with me in the first place is because I was some back up excitement you could exhaust. With the hacking and the sex and all that. Then we got into an actual relationship, and maybe at first you thought you could do it, but you're the type of person who is constantly doing things. You don't stay still. So, I became boring, and you thought the only way you could spare my feelings but still keep moving is by uprooting our life and moving across the country." 

In the midst of Oliver's words, Connor had crossed the distance between them and now stood close. It was Oliver's turn to cross his arms, wanting to just shrivel up and hide. He felt like a shameful churchgoer who'd just confessed every sick little secret to the priest. 

"Oliver... That's, that's insane. Really, I mean, what can I say to convince you that that would never, ever, be the reason I'd want to move?" 

Oliver didn't want to speak. So he didn't. 

"I swear to god, Ollie, I'm not bored of you. I never will be. That's not even a possibility." Connor's voice had grown from a mutter to his normal, strong tone. But now Oliver felt like his voice wouldn't make it past his lips. 

Connor gently uncrossed Oliver's arms and held his hands, tightly, between their chests. 

"I love you, Ollie. So much. I'd never need more excitement in my life than you. That's not the reason I wanted to run away to another state." 

Somehow, Oliver found his words. "So why?" 

"Huh?" 

"Why did you want to move?" Oliver's frown grew as he considered it further. "I know it was because the alleged serial killer knew our address, but he's not a threat, not anymore. I know your job and classes are stressful, but you don't need to move so far away to escape them. I certainly didn't have a reason to move." 

Connor's mouth didn't open, but it did deepened with a frown. 

"Con, why were you so freaked out about he email? I mean, I get that you're angry, I understand, I would be too. But...you, you were on the verge of a breakdown." Connor's hands loosened on his. 

"Con, what was so important to you about Stanford?" 

Connor's hands left Oliver's hanging freely. Slowly, Connor backed away. Not very far, but far enough to turn away and hide his face in the shadow again. 

"Connor?" 

He turned and faced Oliver. Something clicked in his features; his jaw slackened, his eyes dropped. The expression was close to tired defeat, as if his face didn't have the energy to pretend to be angry anymore. 

"It...it wasn't so much Stanford that was important." Connor released a long, slow breath. "It was getting away from here. Getting _you_ away from here. And I know Philip isn't a threat anymore, but... he was never the only reason I wanted you away from here." 

Before he let himself panic, Oliver closed his eyes. Just for a few seconds. To remind himself that they were just talking things out, and everything was going to be solved. Probably by the next day. 

"What other reason do you have, Connor?" 

He was doing it again - Connor's left hand was clinging to his right shoulder, probably hard enough to leave a bruise. His eyes were visible now, and once again brimming with tears. 

"Oliver, I love you, okay, please understand that --" 

"Connor." 

"I love you, really, more than anyth --" 

"Connor. You're scaring me." Oliver swallowed, trying to fight the feeling of his throat closing in on itself. "Please. Tell me what you mean." 

Connor nodded his head, in jerky movements, more to himself than to Oliver. "There's something you don't know. It's, um, it's significant. There's, there's something I did. Something I was a part of. I didn't mean to be, but I was a part of it, and I've never told you about it." 

Oliver felt the urge to yell again, but forced himself to wait. 

"I was only ever doing it to protect you. I swear --" 

"What do you mean." 

"Oliver, I never wanted to hide it, I promise. I only lied about it to stop you from getting into to trouble too. I was protecting you. Like what you did, when you deleted my email. I wanted what's best for both of us." 

Not being capable of watching the pained look on his boyfriend's face, Oliver dropped his eyes to the floor. He gave in to the stinging and closed his eyes, tight, letting the tears out. 

"Connor." Oliver's voice broke on the name. "Please, please just tell me what's happening." 

Connor's voice was just a tear-choked whisper now. "I'm so sorry." 

Oliver raised his head, dragging courage from somewhere deep inside him. He levelled Connor's gaze, and willed himself to make his eyes strong. There were no words but Connor seemed to understand, loud and clear. Whatever this was, whatever concrete wall had been forced between them, it had to be broken down. 

"That night. The night I turned up at your door at six in the morning, when we weren't even together. Do... do you remember it?" 

"The night you had a drug-induced breakdown at my door? The night I practically broke down myself with worry? Yeah, I remember." 

"That night... It wasn't drugs. It was never drugs. Something else happened that night, that I was part of. That's what I've been hiding, ever since that night." 

Oliver had to clamp a shaking hand over his mouth to prevent the sobs escaping. He spoke through the barrier. "What happened." 

The minutes stretched out to what seemed like hours - Connor breathed in fragments, the shadows cast on his face and chest quivering with him. 

"Connor. What happened." 

Another broken breath. 

"Sam Keating's murder." 

******_five weeks after_ ****** ** **

The calls came back as spontaneously as they stopped. It was late in the afternoon. That'd probably be around the time that Connor left work, and went to wherever he was staying right now. 

As much as he didn't like to admit it to himself, Oliver thought about that a lot. Where Connor was staying. Most of his thoughts were about Connor nowadays. 

Two weeks ago, the calls had stopped. But Oliver had expected - and, although he told himself otherwise, hoped - they'd come back. 

As Oliver dropped into the driver seat of his car, he declined the current call, forcing himself not to look at the screen. It occurred to him that Connor had never texted, or left a voicemail - just called. As if he was scared to actually talk to Oliver; as if their situation was still just fragile, instead of irretrievable. 

Earlier that day, he'd removed the contact picture he'd had for Connor - a picture Oliver had taken one afternoon, when they were together, sitting on the beach, with the setting sun behind Connor. Oliver saw that as progress. He still couldn't bring himself to block Connor's number now, even though more than a month had passed. 

The ringing trailed off, then started again in a few seconds. Oliver had to admire Connor's persistence. 

The thought dragged his mind back to that night. The night they really fell apart - when all their lies and secrets finally spilled out. Despite Oliver's efforts to forget about him, the look on Connor's face when he begged Oliver to understand - that was a look that Oliver couldn't leave behind. 

And honestly, Oliver did understand. Even from the moment he heard those words forced out of Connor's mouth, he understood that Connor didn't do anything wrong. Not really. 

_Sam Keating's murder...it wasn't my fault, it was Wes...and it wasn't even entirely his fault...it was so fucked up...none of us wanted to be there..._

Oliver would've kicked himself if he had the space. It was bad enough that he couldn't kick Connor out of his life completely, but now he was letting himself _not hate Connor._

With a sigh, Oliver went to decline another call. Without meaning to, he glimpsed the screen, and saw Michaela's name instead of Connor's. 

Shocked, Oliver just let it ring. He'd cut off ties with the rest of the Keating bunch as soon as he cut off Connor - Michaela had respectfully stayed out of contact since then. Until now. 

The ringing stopped, abruptly. Oliver let out a breath. He knew he should start the car, but hesitated instead. Then, his phone lit up again - Michaela. 

Oliver frowned deeper. In the time he'd known Michaela, she'd never called more than once in a row. She was a practical person - if her call wasn't picked up, she'd convey the message through text and not waste any more time. 

Deciding it must be urgent, Oliver answered the call, one hand still tight on the steering wheel. 

"Oliver? Oliver! Thank god you picked up." 

"What do you want Michaela." 

"Listen, I know things are messy right now, but I swear it's important - it's about Connor." 

Oliver willed himself to hang up, to start the car and drive back to his apartment and forget these people ever came crashing into his life. But he didn't. 

"What about Connor? Is he okay?" 

"No. I don't think so." 

"What does that mean?" 

"I don't know if you know this, but Connor's been staying at my place since...um, he hasn't been going to class, or to work, or anywhere really. But this morning, I convinced him to come into work. He did, but he's not right. I didn't even realise how bad it was..." 

Oliver didn't speak, in an attempt to retain his stubborn silence. He was thankful Michaela wouldn't be able to hear his loss of breath over the phone. 

"He's not eating. He hasn't been sleeping, and when he came in today he tried to do some work but couldn't focus. Even Annalise was getting worried - but when she told him to go home, he just snapped at her, and started yelling about how she ruined his life." 

"Why are you telling me this, Michaela?" 

"Oliver I know you hate him, and all of us, but he needs to see you. You two need to at least... talk. We all miss you, but it's driving Connor over the edge." 

Oliver chewed his lip. 

Thanks to Connor, he'd made quite a few ill-informed decisions in his life. Hacking, It was never directly Connor's fault, but somehow the trail always ended at him. 

Oliver had a feeling this was going to be one of those decisions. 

********~~~** ** ** **

By the time Oliver pulled up a few houses away from Annalise's, the sky was glowing in pastel blues. The sun was almost down. 

In the fading light, Oliver could just make out Connor and Michaela's silhouettes on the Keating house porch. They were both hunched, talking. 

Oliver's feet tapped the car floor lightly. His nerves felt alive and panicked. It was confusing. After the months and months he'd spent with Connor, he couldn't remember having been nervous about being around him. Except for that first night they spent together. 

Somehow, this moment - with it's overflowing apprehension - felt similar. Terrifying, yet thrilling. 

The temptation to run over and wrap himself in Connor's arms was overwhelming - but Oliver waited anyway. Part of him couldn't believe he was here to talk to Connor - possibly to reconcile. Another part of him was shocked that he was so desperate for that to happen. 

Another few minutes passed, and Michaela gave Connor a nudge and went inside the house quickly. She seemed cheery. Connor seemed jumpy. 

Oliver blinked and was out of his car, striding across the path, closer to Connor. 

As he approached Annalise's house, he saw Connor in closer detail. His back was turned, and still hunched, and he was hugging himself tightly. Though he was wearing a jacket, he was shivering uncontrollably. The tuft of hair visible to Oliver was unruly and uncared for. 

Slowly, Oliver got to the steps. He climbed, hand clinging to the wooden railings, pulse thrumming. 

At loss of words, Oliver hesitated. He paused only for a moment, but that's all it took for Connor to swing around and see him, and almost burst into tears right then. 

Oliver wanted so badly to cry too; out of happiness, out of sadness, out of relief. Then he realised there was no reason he couldn't. This was Connor. Even after everything, there was no one he felt more safe with than Connor. 

"Ollie-ver. Um, Oliver. Oh my god, hi." Connor's words were stunted. He was obviously holding back tears. 

Oliver smiled, letting his tears drop. He knew is was odd. He knew he should be full of rage, he knew that everything being out didn't mean that they didn't need to discuss it. 

But, at that particular moment, all he could think about was the paleness of Connor's skin and the dark circles dragging his eyes down, and how much he wanted to fix them. 

"Hi, Connor." 

Oliver expected Connor to smile and act civil, like he normally would. That behaviour was so common with Connor - to nod and chat and pretend there's nothing else happening. 

But instead, Connor gave in and tugged Oliver close, wrapping his arms in a gentle grip. Where there was space before there was now just bodies pressed close. 

Oliver's body surprised him and returned the embrace with lightning suddenness. 

It was a few moments before either spoke. The air filled with sniffs and one or two broken sobs, the source of which difficult to tell. 

Then Connor pulled back, but not too far. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that." 

"It's okay. Really. I guess I'm not as angry at you as I thought I'd be." 

Connor met his eyes, and Oliver's last reserves crumbled. There was no part of him that doubted he was in love with Connor. That hadn't changed. Despite everything - that was never going to change. 

"Listen, Ollie, I know we have a lot to sort out, but I just need to get something out first." 

Oliver nodded, patient. 

"I know I fucked up. I know that _I'm_ fucked up, and that you deserve better. And I swear, all I want is for you to be happy. What I did... The way I lied to you? I hate myself for it. And I just want you to at least understand that I only ever wanted to protect you. I don't expect you to have forgiven me, of course, but please understand." 

Connor said every word with heartbreaking sincerity. Oliver heart broke and sped up at the same time. What Connor didn't know was that Oliver already understood, and had already forgiven him, and so much more. 

"I understand. I get it - what you did. I'm not angry anymore, and trust me, Con, I've forgiven you. What you did was just a slightly larger scale version of what I did with your email. I did something selfish and hurtful to protect us both. Like you." 

The sun had almost dissolved into the sky now, and it'd left behind a dazzling navy canvas. Now, it was cold. But Connor wasn't shivering anymore. 

Oliver breathed deep and continued. "I don't want this to become our entire relationship. I know that, right now, we have a lot of shit to sort out before we even think about getting back together. But the thing is, I can't stand the thought of not being at least in each other's lives, let alone hating you. So, maybe we should be friends. For now. Make our main priority... Fixing everything between us." 

Connor nodded, slowly. He started to smiled again, and it was real, and whole. "Yeah. You know what, yeah. That's the best thing to do." 

Oliver's face gave in to a grin, and tears ran past his cheeks, matching Connor's. Sensing it was the correct next move, Oliver held out his hand, and Connor took it. Even their hands together made the night warmer. 

It was strange, but the moment felt light. It should've been awkward and formal. But instead it was almost content, like most of the dust had been swept away, and there were glimpses of a future with just these two men and their shameless tears and unwavering love. 

And then Oliver pulled Connor in by the hand, and they hugged again, closely. And, suddenly, the dust disappeared completely. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: ecto-hampton (was makers-manhattan)


End file.
